


Three Letter Word

by IdrisSmith



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-12 19:03:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4491141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdrisSmith/pseuds/IdrisSmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a lot of things in life Sherlock Holmes never planned. Falling in love with Molly Hooper was one of it. Having a child with her was another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Most Terrifying Thing in the World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WeLoveSherlolly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeLoveSherlolly/gifts).



> This is for WeLoveSherlolly, feel better :)

‘Dad,’

Or father was such a scary title. It was a title that Sherlock Holmes had never endeavor to hold all his life. That was until he met one Molly Hooper. That was the moment he threw all caution out the window. He was a school boy all over again, crushing on a girl, pulling on her pigtails (amusing, considering how Molly love to tie her hair up in a ponytail) and winding her up every chance he got. Of course, even though he was no idiot, he was an idiot when it came to the matter of the heart.

It took him eight years from the moment he first laid eyes on her before he actually asked her out. More like, demand a dinner with her and she didn’t even realize it was a date until he pointed out it was, months later. Sherlock Holmes was definitely not the life and soul of romance. Even if he did took Doctor Hooper to one of the finest restaurant in London and actually paid the bill, instead of expecting his older brother to do so.

He was, pretty short when it come to expressing his feelings. Forget actually thinking the words of appreciation to John for asking him (Sherlock) to be the best man. It was a completely new and different level of lack.

For the better part of six months before she understood that the dinner they went to was, in fact, a date, Molly Hooper had accepted a total of seven dinners (just dinner, not the kind The Woman would suggest) invitation which Sherlock Holmes had spoiled personally or command his homeless network to ruin. To put it bluntly, he was jealous, but, not jealous enough to actually spell out that he wanted to date Molly Hooper.

And the only reason why he told her was because he was getting frustrated with her ignoring him. He was a child, obviously.

Still, it worked out for the better.

\--

“Shit, shit, shit!” Molly’s use of strings of profanity woke Sherlock from his slumber. He groaned, not appreciating the early hour.

He turned to his side, eyes closed, searching for the small frame of Molly Hooper who had been warming the other side of his bed for almost a year now. His brain was not able to fully process any coherent thought, but, he soon realize that she was not where she was supposed to be. His eyes flew open, catching a faint cry coming from the general direction he knew to be the bathroom.

Not good. Even in the early hour, with his mind still catching up with him after a long night – not that kind of night (though they had plenty of those that the papers would have a field day if they found out), he had only found his bed at four in the morning after finishing a case in a different part of England, rushing back simply because neither he nor John wanted to stay away from their partners. He just knew it was not good.

Molly and crying, it was definitely not good. He rolled back to the side of his bed before swinging his feet over, trying to brush sleep away from his eyes. Part of him wanted to text John, but, he knew for a fact that John would just tell him to bugger off and figure it out himself if he were to call at six in the morning, especially when the man had only around two hours of sleep.

“Molly,” He called, walking away from the bed. He, fortunately, was dressed in a thin t-shirt and pajama pants, ebbing away some of the cold morning air. 

He heard her shuffle; frantic small footsteps and curiosity got the best of him. He reached for the handle and by some luck; it was not locked, even when Molly have the tendency to lock the door behind her. He found her on the floor, face stained with tears and a strange coloured stick in her hand.

“I – ” Molly gaped at the sight of him.

He looked from her, her state from what she had held in her hand. His brain raced, trying to recall where he had seen such object before. In his mind, he pulled open and closed several doors and drawers and then it hit him.

“Molly, what are you doing with a pregnancy test?” It had not sunk in yet. The possible nature of which would led Molly Hooper, his live-in lover (he refused to use the term girlfriend), with such device.

Silence.

A beat of passing moment before Molly was reduced to a sobbing mess and Sherlock was halfway between panicking and, well, panicking.

“Molly,” He called anxiously, “What’s wrong?”

He moved, trying to reach her, but, she flinched, as if expecting a blow from him. As if he would ever dare to lay his hand on her. He would much rather die than harm her – well, perhaps he was a bit of a romantic.

“I - ” she sobbed, “am,” her breath hitched, “pregnant,”

It took him approximately five seconds (which was a feat considering he was still a bit sleepy) to catch up on what she was saying, and to actually process it word by word. And he froze.

“How?” Was all he could manage and it sounded stupid even as he said it. Of course he knew how, he knew the mechanic, how it came to be and fucking her into the mattress surely contribute to it. But, they were careful, he was careful. It was not as if he did not want a child – children were just never part of the equation with him.

“I,” sobbed, “don’t,” sobbed, “know,”

The shock of finding out his lover was with his child woke Sherlock as would six nicotine patches and he understood that it was not that she didn’t know, it was that she did not understand how. How, even with the number of protection they had used, she was still pregnant. 

And he was baffled himself. Not of the fact of the impending arrival of a child that would share a blend of genetic trait between him and Molly, no. 

He was baffled by Molly.

He sat, crossing his leg, across from when she sprawled on the cold marble, reminding himself, ever so often, to take a breath.

“Could you tell me as to why you’re crying, I thought you’ve always wanted a child,” His voice was calm, collected, a stark contrast to his rapidly pulsing heart.

That was not a secret. Molly loved children, she especially love the Watson’s three year old daughter; Elizabeth and would often offer to baby-sit the infant.

She did not answer right away, merely looking at him as if he had asked her the secret of the universe before turning her gaze at the stick in her hand with the two lines indicating a positive result.

And then she spoke, with such low voice that pierced his heart, “But, you don’t want a child,”

Oh.

It was about him.

Breath.

“Wh-what gave you the idea?” He asked, stumbling over his words. He never told her in so many words that he would not want a child of his own, he had never displayed intense hatred of children and he obviously adored little Elizabeth Watson. He just didn’t know if he wanted a child. With all the horrors both he and Molly had seen throughout the years, he was too scared to even think of having a child.

Yes, Sherlock Holmes was scared.

She just stared at him, a long stare with her tear stained lashes.

“Sherlock,” was all she said.

It reminded him how well she knew him. She knew him even without saying, like she knew he loved her without him having to say the words more than once. Right, he hadn’t said he loved her saved that one time, the first and last.

And it hit him. He should have told her more often. He should tell her that he loved her often, it was not only for her benefit, and it was for his as well.

He really did love her. 

How can it be such a bad idea to have a child with her? A child that looked like them, maybe more than one, maybe five – like she always wanted but never told him. She loved the idea of a big family and with her; perhaps he wouldn’t be so bad at parenthood.

He swallowed hard, trying to speak, but, she beat him to the punch.

“What am I going to do?” She sounded broken, defeated, “I already love her, I’ve only just found out and I already love her,”

“Her?” He breathed.

A little girl with her eyes, his lips, her nose, his hair and everything that was good from her.

“Yes,” She nodded.

“There’s no scientific evidence to support that our child would be female, at least not until the ultrasound between the eighteen and twenty-sixth week,” He argued, remembering how frantic John was about Mary’s ultrasound. He never knew why he stored that information; he had simply filed it away then.

And he said ‘our child’, he noticed it, Molly didn’t.

“It’s a feeling, Sherlock,” Molly sniffled, placing her palm on her still-flat stomach.

He wondered what she would look like pregnant. 

“That’s hardly reliable, Molly. You cannot simply determine our child’s gender until a proper scan,” He scoffed.

There it was, ‘our child’, again.

“Do you want to bet, Mr Holmes?” Molly challenged him, forgetting her worries for a moment, yet, she had not caught up how Sherlock had referred the new life in her as ‘our child’, twice.

“What do I get if I win?” He was suddenly ecstatic at the prospect of seeing this child that would be a blend of him and Molly.

“If I’m right, I’ll name her. If you’re right, you’ll name him,” She decided without thinking.

Sherlock huffed, “Deal, just don’t name our child after a fruit or some strange television characters you’re so fond of,”

Third time.

And she caught up.

“O-our child?” She blinked, “We’re keeping her?”

“Or him,” He corrected her, “And yes,”

He cannot say that he had ever seen her so happy, ever. She had launched herself at him, sending them flat on the cold marble floor, pressing herself tightly onto him.

“We’re not naming him Sherlock either,” She said easily.

And he laughed.

Of course she won. The scan failed to detect the gender of their child before birth, but, she won. Molly had painted the room yellow – John’s old bedroom – instead of pink because she had always loved the colour better and she was sure, and she was right. 

And he probably should have trusted her with the choice of their child’s name more. He was so sure that their baby girl would be named Rose or Martha or Donna or Sarah Jane or even Ace, she weren’t.

She was Violet, Violet Miriam Holmes.

Molly decided to give their daughter his last name instead of hers and that shock him. She could have chosen her last name, but, she chose to call Violet a Holmes.

He remembered asking if she was sure and she had simply rolled her eyes.

“She’s definitely a Holmes,” Molly had said, stroking her young daughter’s dark locks.


	2. Forever Can Never Be Long Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The big question was not whether he loved her. The big question was whether she would say yes when he asks because he knew she had gotten to the point where they are is enough for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just because...

“Sherlock, we don’t really have to get married,” Molly said exasperatedly as Sherlock brought up the topic for the nth time since they took Violet home from the hospital. It had been approximately three months since and Sherlock had, very nearly, worn her out into saying yes to his sort-of proposal. Well, the first one was pretty impressive, so was the second, third, the fourth, but, even Sherlock Holmes would run out of ideas on how to propose after being turned down multiple times.

“Why not?” He asked.

She noted the hurt that was clear on his face. It was new – that kind of look. Sherlock had always kept his expression blank unless if he was trying to irritate someone purposely or extremely excited about a case or actually for a case. She was probably one of the few people that could see him without his mask on.

“Because it’s a social convention and you’re probably being pressured by either your parents or John or both,” She replied, moving around to gather her files, she was due to return to work in a week’s time, Mike had about to go crazy with her long maternity leave. She couldn’t blame him; even Greg was close to bribing her to return sooner, hinting he would babysit if he had to.

Sherlock pouted. A year ago, she would have fallen for that pout and said yes. But, she had grown from that version of her. She was happy living with the man she loves and she had a child with him, and that was enough for her. She decided long ago that she didn’t need anything if she could just stay by his side. And to have a child with him, she really thought that she had used up all of her luck for at least eleven lifetimes.

“And I will tell Mary to stop threatening you to make an honest woman out of me,” She added as she reached for a file lodged deep into the sofa.

How did it get there? She wondered silently, tucking the file under her armpit.

She continued to prance about finding things, shoes and stuffing her bags. She knew that if she was not prepared, she would not be able to make it out the door on time in the morning. Not with Sherlock puppy eyes and their daughter’s innocent face. She really didn’t want to go back to work, but, she had to. Her job was her first love and she still believed that she was doing some good. Besides, if she was to leave all the financial to Sherlock, they would be in trouble, the man had no regard of financial security and had lived of toast and peanut butter for a month.

“Honestly, I don’t even understand why people keep saying you need to make an honest woman out of me, it’s not like we live in the fifteen century,” She rambled, packing and ignoring the fact that he had followed her every step.

“Actually scientifically speaking, children with married parents are far happier than those who aren’t,” Sherlock tried to argue; he knew it was a vain attempt, but, he had to try. 

Molly rolled her eyes, “Don’t distort research, it was children with two parents are happier than those who have one parent, and last I checked, ours have two,”

“No, I think it’s a new research,” Sherlock added, knowing that he had nothing to support his rebuff. 

Molly sighed and stopped what she was doing. She turned to face the love of her life, the bane of her existence, the father of her child. The man was still a mystery to her. Even after almost two years of living together, she was still finding new things about him. She sure she would never stop getting confused by his silliness or ideas, but, that was one of the many things that she actually loved about him.

“Sherlock, why are you so insistent on marrying me?” She asked, partly out of curiosity and partly getting tired of him proposing to her every few days.

It was not that she didn’t want to marry him. It was the nagging feeling at the back of her mind he was doing it for the sake of doing things. Because it was the right thing to do and it was the very definition of insanity to her. Maybe it was a little silly; she wanted him to want her to stay not because of external pressures, but, because he wanted to, as simple as that.

“John might have said in jest that you could take Violet away and leave me if we’re not married,” He admitted.

He was fidgeting; clearly it was a genuine concern of his.

Oh.

Molly looked dumbstruck. Part of her was glad that he loved his daughter that he couldn’t imagine a life without the child, but, another part was nagging that he was not asking her for her. It was ridiculous to be jealous of one’s own child, still, she was. She knew that she didn’t need further validation that Sherlock did love her, yet, she couldn’t help but wanting to hear those three little words a lot more often.

Molly sighed, she decided to take what she can get, “Sherlock, she has your last name,”

“You could still leave, if you’re sick of me,” He replied, looking away from her and his expression was grim. It was as if it pained him, the idea that she could just walk away from him even when there are evidence stacked against her ability to walk away. She had loved him for a long time and never really did stop. 

For the first time ever, Molly was truly lost for word. She took a deep breath; putting aside the bag that was in her hand and stopping her pursuit to pack for work altogether. She would worry about that later, or perhaps, the morning. She was sure that being an hour or two late would be better than not showing up at all. Plus, Mike would understand, he had three children of his own.

“Sherlock, what makes you think I wouldn’t leave you if I wanted to even if we’re married?” She asked softly.

He smiled at the wall, there was a hint of trepidation in his demeanor before he spoke the truth, “It would make that effort slightly harder with you legally bind to me,”

She blinked, studying the face of the consulting detective carefully. She could not believe what she was hearing. Sherlock Holmes, the great Sherlock Holmes was terrified with the prospect of her leaving him. And she didn’t know how to process that information. Sherlock was always the one who had the power over her that she was not even aware just how deep she could affect him. 

Even when it had not even crossed her mind, no, she could never leave him. Not simply because she had loved him from the moment she saw him, no, it was because he was exactly what she needed all her life. And he was a great father. Who’d even imagine Sherlock Holmes would get up at the wee hour in the morning to feed their infant daughter? But, he did and always without her even realizing he had done so.

“Sherlock, look at me,” Molly gently told the consulting detective to look directly at her, “I’m never leaving you, you know that,”

He did. And she swallowed at the sight of the raw emotion in his eyes. If she ever doubted his love for her, the look was enough to eradicate it. Sherlock Holmes, for all his fault, loved her sincerely and she knew that for a fact.

“No, I don’t,” He replied, “You can’t see it, can’t you?”

She blinked, wondering what he meant by the words. It didn’t make sense to her, why he thought she could ever leave when all her heart was his. He should know that better by now. 

He reached, stroking her cheek with his palm, “You’re far too amazing to settle for me, far too beautiful, far too kind, far too loving and far too perfect,”

She swallowed, hard; it was not something she was expecting to hear from him, “I’m not,”

“But you are,” He insisted, leaning to plant a kiss on her forehead, “And you could walk away and leave me a mess of myself,”

He settled again, stroking the back of her hand. She searched his eyes, looking to see if he was, truly, sincere. He was. It was not a game for him. He wasn’t asking because of everyone else. He was asking because he wanted her, to be with her.

“Alright,” She agreed.

There was no reason to keep saying no to him. And there was no reason as to why they shouldn’t marry either. She loved him and he loved her. That was enough for her. The rest, she realized they could figure it out later, much later, preferably together. Growing old with him doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.

“Is that a yes?” He was still unsure.

She realized he was not deducing her. He was allowing him to tell her instead of looking for the clues and deciphering them himself. She didn’t think it was because he was too insecure to come to the conclusion; rather, he didn’t need to. He didn’t need to because she would just tell him instead of letting him guess, always.

“It’s a yes, you git. But, if you want to have a grand wedding as per your mum’s request,” She noted the mirth in his eyes, they both knew Violet Holmes too well, ”That’ll have to wait until next year or it’s city hall. I’m not sure Mike can handle me being away for anything longer than a day at this rate,”

“City hall,” He agreed and finally leaning to kiss the breath out of her.

Little did they know that there was no way Mummy Holmes was going to allow her youngest son married in less than a grand fashion or she wouldn’t be Violet Holmes.

**Author's Note:**

> There may or may not be a second chapter... I am too sleepy to type the rest...


End file.
